PS 3505 
.L647 
A8 
1922 
Copy 1 


International Copyrighted (in England, her Col- 
nies, and the United States) Edition of the 
Works of the Best Authors 

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No. 438 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 





A SENTIMENTAL COMEDY OF 
MANNERS IN THREE ACTS 


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BY 

COLIN CAMPBELL CLEMENTS 

Author of “Just Women,” “Pirates,” “The Touchstone,” 
“A Man and His Wife,” Etc. 

Copyright 1922 by Samuel French 

Amateurs may produce “Aunt Betty of Butte” without 
payment of royalty. All other rights reserved. 

Price 30 Cents 


New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 
Publisher 

28-30 West 38th Street 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 


fiimininmiiniiiiimiimmimiMin.iiimiiimimimiHimmiiii........ 






THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 6 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

This is a genuinely-funny comedy with splendid parts for “Aunt 
Mary,” “Jack,” her lively nephew; “Lucinda,” a New England an¬ 
cient maid of all work; “Jack’s” three chums; the Girl “Jack” loves; 
“Joshua,” Aunt Mary’s hired man, etc. 

“Aunt Mary” was played by May Robson in New York and on tour 
for over two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever pro¬ 
duced. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Gents. 


MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
“The Tailor-Made Man.” 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. 
Costumes modern. Plays 2 % hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for his initial comedy the complications arising 
from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude 
peopled by hyphenated names—a theme permitting innumerable com¬ 
plications, according to the spirit of the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. 
Fiske with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 


MRS. TEMPLE’S TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and Wil¬ 
liam Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands through¬ 
out the three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2 hours. 

“Mrs. Temple’s Telegram” is a sprightly farce in which there is 
an abundance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any •le¬ 
nient of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, “Oh, what a 
tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time 
the curtain rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and 
furious. A very exceptional farce. Price, 60 Cents. 


THE NEW CO-ED. 

A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of “Tempest and 
Sunshine,” etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number 
of boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One 
interior and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one inte¬ 
rior scene. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 

The theme this play is the coming of a new student to the col¬ 
lege, her reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are three especially good girls’ parts, Letty, Madge and 
Estelle, but the others have plenty to do. “Punch” Doolittle and 
George Washington Watts, a gentleman of color, are two particularly 
good comedy characters. We can strongly recommend “The New 
Co-Ed” to high schools and amateurs. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

Mew ami Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Reguest 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


(A SENTIMENTAL COMEDY OF MANNERS IN 

THREE ACTS) 


BY 

COLIN CAMPBELL CLEMENTS 

Author of “Just Women” “Pirates,” “The Touchstone,” 
“A Man and His Wife,” Etc. 


Copyright 1922 by Samuel French 


Amateurs may produce 
payment of royalty. 


“Aunt Betty of Butte” without 
All other rights reserved. 


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New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 West 38tii Street 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 



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DEC -2 1922 


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CHARACTERS 


Mrs. Betty Cornish. 

Mr. William George Grayson. her brother. 

Mrs. Kathrine Grayson... .his wife. 

Suzzane Grayson . their daughter. 

Richard Porter. a young professor. 

Sir Thomas Lord. 

Maid. 

The play takes place in the living-room of the 
Grayson home which is in a small town near New 
York City. The room is well furnished, there are 
two large divans, a small piano, several tables and 
a number of comfortable chairs; at the back is a 
stairway leading to the rooms above and double 
doors leading on to the veranda. A door at the 
right opens into the dining-room and another on the 
left opens into the library. 



























•V 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


(The curtain rises on Mr. and Mrs. Grayson.) 

Mr. Grayson. Now my dear, don’t start that all 
ov,er again. 

Mrs. Grayson. Start! Start? 

Mr. Grayson. We have discussed the situation 
long enough. 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh, have we? We aren’t half 
finished—not half. 

Mr. Grayson. Now. my dear- 

Mrs. Grayson. Don’t try to humor me. I’m not 
in a mood for it! To begin with- 

Mr. Grayson. We have begun—yon began the 
moment you got up—and have been going ever since. 

Mrs. Grayson. Betty is your- 

Mr. Grayson. Yes, yes. She’s my sister! You’ve 
said that at least fifty times to-day. It was the last 
thing you said to me when T went off this morning 
and the first thing you said to me when I got home 
this evening. I know—Betty is mv sister. T can’t 
help that, can I ? 

Mrs. Grayson. You ought to be able to! 

Mr. Grayson. Oh! 

Mrs. Grayson. Why she wants to come and 
visit us at this time of year is more than T can under¬ 
stand ! Why she wanted to come at all is more than 
T can understand! Haven’t I snubbed her often 
enough? Haven’t I gone out of my way to let her 
know that- 


5 







6 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Mr. Grayson. Now look here, you can say what 
you please, you can go as far as you like but what 
I do want you to understand is that I will not have 
my own sister snubbed in my own house! 

Mrs. Grayson. Isn’t she my sister-in-law? And 
I’ll act as I see fit! And, also, I don’t see that you 
have any right to refer to this house as yours. 
Haven’t I spent years of drudgery here? Haven’t I 
spent my life here? Haven’t I lived here and 
brought up Suzzane as a girl should be brought up? 
Your house, your house indeed! You might be at 
least polite enough to refer to it as our house. 

Mr. Grayson. (He goes on reading his paper) 
My dear- 

Mrs. Grayson. Your house! 

Mr. Grayson. Come to think of it, this is her 
house. Didn’t she let us take it the day we were 
married? And has she ever asked a cent of rent 
the twenty years we’ve lived in it? 

Mrs. Grayson. We’ve made all the improve¬ 
ments, and paid for them ! 

Mr. Grayson. Nevertheless, I believe it might 

rightly he called Betty’s house- (There is a 

long pause.) 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh! Oh! 

Mr. Grayson. (He runs to her) What is it my 
dear? What is it? 

Mrs. Grayson. (Sobbing) Perhaps she’s com¬ 
ing to take it away from us! Perhaps she’s coming 
to collect all the back rent! Perhaps she’s- 

Mr. Grayson. No —I’m sure she won’t do that! 

Mrs. Grayson. How do you know what she’ll 
do? No one ever knows what she’ll do next! She’s 
that sort of a person. 

Mr. Grayson. But I’m sure- 

Mrs. Grayson. You’re sure of nothing! Here 
she comes swooping down on us unexpectedly. She 






AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


7 

might at least have written that she was coming, that 
would have given us a chance to- 

Mr. Grayson. To run off to Bar Harbor or 
Europe or- 

Mrs. Grayson. And have her follow us there? 
Never! 

Mr. Grayson. She wouldn’t have done that. 

Mrs. Grayson. Now contradict me! William, 
there’s one thing T can’t stand about you—there’s 
one thing I never could stand about you—and she’s 
just like you- 

Mr. Grayson. My dear, I- 

Mrs. Grayson. And that’s your sureness about 
everything. 

Mr. Grayson. I only ventured, simply ventured 
an opinion that Betty would not have tagged us 
around the world. I’m sure of that! 

Mrs. Grayson. You see! You’re sure of it! 
And I always know that when you are sure of a 
thing, it’s wrong. 

Mr. Grayson. My dear, I’m sure- 

Mrs. Grayson. Now don’t start that again ! You 
were sure that time she fell from an aeroplane and 
broke her leg that there was some mistake. You 
were sure that time she slapped Senator Ford’s face 
that it was all a newspaper story. You were sure 
the time she ran for congress that there was some 
mistake. 

Mr. Grayson. Well, she didn’t win. 

Mrs. Grayson. She almost! I can never forget 
that terrible hour of election returns! 

Mr. Grayson. My dear, let bygones be bygones. 

Mrs. Grayson. Every time you’re sure, you’re 
wrong. She did fall from an aeroplane and break 
her leg. She did slap Senator Ford’s face. She did 
run for- 









8 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Mr. Grayson. Now, my dear, Betty isn’t really 
such a bad sort and - 

Mrs. Grayson. She’s so—so—western! And \ 
can’t stand that in any woman ! 

Mr. Grayson. But I was from the West—and 
you married me. 

Mrs. Grayson. At least you had the good sense 
to hide it. Betty flaunts it everywhere. She—she’s 
proud of it! 

Mr. Grayson. (He picks up his paper again) 
My dear, I think it highly improper, yes, that’s the 
word, improper, to speak so of Betty in—in her own 
house. 

Mrs. Grayson. Bring that up again! Because I 
was foolish enough to marry a man, a man without 
means, simply because I thought I loved him, you 
throw it at my head twenty years afterward! I was 
young—and you took advantage of my years and— 

Mr. Grayson. My dear, do you realize what 
you’re saying? 

Mrs. Grayson. No, I don’t, and T don’t care. 
Remember this, William, if I’m saying anything I 
shouldn’t be saying you have only yourself to blame. 
Only yourself, you led me on ! 

Mr. Grayson. My God! 

Mrs. Grayson. And if Betty, your sister Betty, 
had only stayed out West where she belongs we 
might have lived peacefully together for another 
twenty years. 

Mr. Grayson. Kathrine, you don’t mean - 

Mrs. Grayson. I don’t know what I mean, and 
what’s more William George Grayson, it’s all your 
fault! 

Mr. Grayson. All this family row began because 
my poor widowed sister is coming- 

Mrs. Grayson. She may be here any moment 
now! 





AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


9 

Mr. Grayson. My poor widowed sister comes 
from Butte to visit us for a week or two. 

Mrs. Grayson. How do you know whether she’s 
coming for a week or a year or two years or forever? 
Mind you, I’ll be in a sanitarium after three days 
of her. That’s my limit! Just three days is all I 
can stand! And besides she’s not a poor widow! 
That’s just it. If she could only remain quiet and 
sad and respectable like other people! 

Mr. Grayson. Respectable! 

Mrs. Grayson. Well then, discreet, like all other 
widows, then perhaps T could stand her. But no, 
she has to have her ranches and her race-horses and 
her copper mines and her—her—rights for women ! 
She’s like a fire-cracker under everybody’s feet! 
Stay in the room with her five minutes and she’s 
disgraced everyone in it! 

Mr. Grayson. Disgraced! 

Mrs. Grayson. She imposes her will upon every¬ 
body. If that isn’t disgraceful it at least shows a— 
a—lack of breeding. 

Mr. Grayson. Kathrine! 

Mrs. Grayson. And no one knows where she 
will break out next! She always breaks out where 
one least expects it! Oh, I know your sister, George! 
I haven’t lived with you for twenty years for noth¬ 
ing! I am quite aware of your family weaknesses. 
You are all alike in many respects. And more than 
likely she’ll be having her committees and her suf¬ 
fragists and all the rest of them meeting here, right 
here in my own living-room. 

Mr. Grayson. Now my dear- 

Mrs. Grayson. Don’t try to argue with me, Wil¬ 
liam. My mind is set and there is no use your try¬ 
ing to change it. I like Betty—in her place. 

Mr. Grayson. And. her place isn’t in your home, 
hum, I understand. 



10 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Mrs. Grayson. I’m thinking of Suzzane as much, 
or more, than I am the rest of us. 

Mr. Grayson. Suzzane? 

Mrs. Grayson. Do you realize what it means to 
contaminate her young mind with- 

Mr. Grayson. Contaminate, my dear? 

Mrs. Grayson. What I’m trying to say is, that it 
seems unjust to have Suzzane in daily contact with 
one of these “Modern Women !’ 

Mr. Grayson. You don’t mean she smokes! 

Mrs. Grayson. Who? 

Mr. Grayson. Betty. 

Mrs. Grayson. No —at least I hope not. But 
I’m prepared for the worst. At any rate her mind 
is full of these modern, these ultra-modern notions 
of—of—ultra-modern notions ! Do you realize what 
it would mean if your daughter, your only daughter, 
should get such silly ideas into her head? 

Mr. Grayson. She has always been fond of her 
Aunt Betty. 

Mrs. Grayson. That’s just it! She’s also fond 
of Richard Porter—that proves how undeveloped 
her mind is, as yet. 

Mr. Grayson. Dick Porter—not a bad young 
chap—not a bad chap at all. I’ve met much worse. 

Mrs. Grayson. But a school teacher! 

Mr. Grayson. You married a lawyer, my dear. 

Mrs. Grayson. That’s quite different, much dif¬ 
ferent. Besides I was young, and very much in love 
—then. 

Mr. Grayson. Young people do such foolish 
things when they are in love. 

Mrs. Grayson. Decidedly foolish! 

Mr. Grayson. Dick writes now and then, doesn’t 
he ? 

Mrs. Grayson. Writes? He writes rubbish. 

Mr. Grayson. Seems to be selling it to the maga- 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


11 

zines and the publishers. (An automobile horn is 
heard.) Hello! What’s that? 

Mrs. Grayson. She’s arrived! 

Mr. Grayson. Yes. 

(He rises, (joes to the French windows at the back 
and out onto the Veranda. Suzzane conies 
rushing in.) 

Suzzane. Oh, Mother, she’s immense! 

Mrs. Grayson. Physically or mentally, my dear? 
Suzzane. She kept us both roaring all the way 
up from the station. Dick is bringing her up. Oh, 
here they are! 

(Aunt Betty and Mr. Grayson enter through the 

French windows.) 

Aunt Betty. My dear Kate! 

Mrs. Grayson. Betty! 

Aunt Betty. Let me look at you. Really, you’re 
getting fat! Stout! Doing anything for it ? A 
woman simply can’t allow herself to get—stout. Eh, 
William ? 

Mr. Grayson. Well- 

Aunt Betty. You ought to take some good exer¬ 
cises. Rolling is excellent. Ell give you some good 
ones while Em here. They are effective. I’ve used 
’em. Reduced thirteen pounds last winter—thirteen 
pounds, my dear. Why, you wouldn’t have known 
me. I was getting as big as a house. And my 
breath—I couldn’t get my breath and, well, you 
know me. The minute I realized I couldn’t get my 
breath I determined it was time to do something! 
Mrs. Grayson. Oh! 

^Mr. Grayson sputters. Richard enters with two 

bags.) 



12 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Richard. Where shall I put these? 

Aunt Betty. Oh. my bags—heavy, eh? 

Mrs. Grayson. Put them in the Blue Room, 
Richard. The maid will unpack them. 

Aunt Betty. No —no. I’d rather do that my¬ 
self. 

("Richard goes upstairs. He winks at Suzzane on 

the way up.) 

Aunt Betty. Nice young fellow, that. Blue 
Room, eh? (She sits down.) Well, I suppose Eve 
got to explain myself—tell why I’m here, what I’m 
going to do, and how long I’m going to stay- 

Mrs. Grayson. Of course we are- 

Aunt Betty. Yes, yes, I know. You see, I had 
to come to New York on business. 

Mr. Grayson. Business? 

Aunt Betty. Yes, William. We’ve just opened 
up two new mines. Oh, it was a great find. They 
promise to be whales! 

Mrs. Grayson. Whales? 

Aunt Betty. I mean very productive. Well, as 
T was saying, T had to come to New York on busi¬ 
ness and so I thought T might just as well stop with 
you people while I was in the East. I can stay only 
three days. 

Mrs. Grayson. We are very glad to have you 
with us—but we realize how hard it is for vou to 

j 

stay away from your mines and—and —three days 
you said? 

Aunt Betty. Just three days. (She turns.) Oh, 
yes, and I want to talk to you about the house, Wil¬ 
liam, this house. 

Mr. Grayson. Oh, yes, yes. Kathrine and I 
were just speaking of that this afternoon. 

Mrs. Grayson. We speak of it quite often. 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


13 

Mr. Grayson. \es—Kathrine was saying how 
kind you have been to let us- 

Aunt Betty. Oh. bosh! Kindness nothing! 
Well, as I was saying, I must get back to Butte as- 
soon as possible. fMiis. Grayson sighs.) And you 
mustn’t press me to stay—three days, that’s my 
limit. You know, if I stay away from Butte long, 
everything seems to go to smash. 

f Richard enters.) 

Richard. I’ve got you all put away in the Blue 
Room, Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. Now that is nice of you Mr.—Mr. 
—T don’t believe Suzzane told me your name! 

Suzzane. Why! I thought you knew! 

Aunt Betty. How should I know? 

Suzzane. But this is Dick—Richard Porter. 
Don’t you remember him? 

Aunt Betty. Not little freckled face Dick Por¬ 
ter? Are you the kid I spanked for throwing mud 
on Suzzane’s dolls? 

Richard. (He laughs) You did wallop me! 

Aunt Betty. I never should have known you— 
you’ve shot right up like a weed since the last time 
T saw you. Look like a real man now. (She turns.) 
Makes 11s feel old to see these kids growing up under 
our noses, doesn’t it? 

Richard. Tt’s been a long time since you were 
here last, Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. Don’t call me Mrs. Cornish! You 
used to call me Aunt Betty. T can’t see that long 
trousers make any difference. T haven’t changed. 
It is you who have changed. Working now, I sup¬ 
pose. Doing what? 

Richard. For the time being I am teaching. 




14 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Suzzane. (Proudly) And be is writing, too! 
Novels and plays and- 

Aunt Betty. I hope they are good ones. 

Suzzane. Oh. they are! 

Mrs. Grayson. You’ll want to go to your room 
and change? 

Aunt Betty. I just want to wash, just to wash 
up a bit. 

Mrs. Grayson. I shall go up with you. (She 
rises and walks toward the stairs.) 

Aunt Betty. Oh, is there any hurry? Well, I 
suppose I might just as well do it now and have it 
over with. (She rises, starts toward the stairs, 
turns.) William, will you mix me a cocktail? 

Mr. Grayson. A cocktail. There hasn’t been 
one in the house since- 

Aunt Betty. I see. A law abiding citizen, eh ? 
You ought to be proud of your husband, Kate—so 
few women can be these days. (They go up stairs. 
Mr. Grayson zvhistles a fezv notes and tries des¬ 
perately to pull himself together.) 

Suzzane. She’s fine. 

Richard. Not a bit as I remembered her. I 
always thought she was an ogle-eyed Monster. 

Suzzane. That’s because she spanked you once! 
Imagine anyone spanking you ! 

Richard. Hum- 

Suzzane. You know she’s not a bit like you. 
Father. No one would ever take you two for 
brother and sister. 

Mr. Grayson. Why not, my dear? 

Suzzane. Oh, I don’t know, but no one would. 
Aunt Betty has got so much push to her. 

Mr. Grayson. Eh, what’s that? 

Suzzane. (She runs to her father and puts her 
arms around his neck) Oh, I don’t mean that! I 
mean—well, she’s just different that’s all. 





AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


15 

Mr. Grayson. 1 see, my clear, 1 see. (He looks 
up the stairs.) Hm—looks like a storm, all right. 

Richard. Storm ? Why, the sun has been shining 
all day long. 

Suzzane. It has been a lovely day. 

Mr. Grayson. Eh? Oh, yes—yes. Has it? 

Suzzane. ( She glances at the stairs and then at 
her father) You ought to go out and look—really 
you should. 

Mr. Grayson. Yes—yes—I suppose I should, I 
suppose I should. (He goes out on the veranda.) 

Suzzane. Well, we’re alone! 

Richard. Yes—we are alone. 

Suzzane. It’s the first time to-day. 

Richard. It’s been a long day, too! 

Suzzane. Well - 

Richard. Oh! (He runs over and tries to kiss 
her.) 

Suzzane. No. Just one on the hand, there. 

Richard. But- 

Suzzane. It’s not quite proper for people who 
are not yet engaged to be kissing each other—of 
course, after we are engaged we can- 

Richard. But you used to let me kiss you! 

Suzzane. That was before I was sure I loved you. 

Richard. What ? 

Suzzane. Oh, Dick. We grew up together. You 
were just like a big brother—but now you see it’s 
different. We are grown up—and we are in love. 
At least we are supposed to be. Besides you have 
changed, oh, you have changed a lot, Dick. 

Richard. Changed ? How ? 

Suzzane. I don’t know. You’re just different. 
I think it must be the year at Princeton. 

Richard. I don’t see that being a professor ought 
to make any difference. Professors are human just 
like everybody else. 







AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


16 


Suzzane. But you are different. 

Richard. How? 

Suzzane. I don’t know just what it is but—but— 
you’re sort of professional! 

Richard. What in the world do you mean by 
that ? 

Suzzane. Sort of more dignified or something. 
I don’t know exactly what it is or how to explain it. 
Of course, I always see you as a little boy- 

Richard. As a little boy? 

Suzzane. Yes, that’s it. As a little boy grown 
up! 

Richard. Very well, then let the “little boy” kiss 

you! 

Suzzane. But not more than—than—not more 
than—three times ! 

Richard. (He springs to her side) There—and 
there—and there—and there! 

fM rs. Grayson comes down stairs.) 

Suzzane. (She runs away) Oh shoot! And we 
were having such a good time! 

Mrs. Grayson. Where is your father? 

Suzzane. He just went outside. 

Richard. Yes, to look at the clouds. 

Mrs. Grayson. Clouds— there aren’t any clouds! 

Richard. That’s just it. He—er—he—went out 
to see if he couldn’t find one! 

Suzzane. Yes. 

Mrs. Grayson. Are you both crazy? (Suddenly.) 
What are you two up to? 

Suzzane. Oh, nothing! 

Richard. Yes, yes, nothing at all. Just talking 
and looking through the magazines and—and- 

Mrs. Grayson. I think you two shouldn’t be 
alone together so much. It isn’t—it isn’t proper, so 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 17 

to speak. ("Aunt Betty’s voice is heard calling : 
“Kate, Kate, where are the towels?”) The maid has 
forgotten to put towels in that room ! ("Mrs. Gray¬ 
son goes upstairs again.) 

Suzzane. ( She follows her mother with her 

eyes) Well—we’re alone again! 

Richard. Yes. 

Suzzane. Well - 

Richard. More kisses! 

Suzzane. Oh, no! Didn’t you hear what she 
just said—it isn’t proper! 

Richard. Kissing? 

Suzzane. No, stupid, about our being alone to¬ 
gether so much. 

Richard. Does she call it improper? 

Suzzane. You know how old fashioned she is 
about some things. 

Richard. Improper! I can’t see anything im¬ 
proper about kissing the girl one loves. It’s been 
done ever since Adam kissed Eve. 

Suzzane. And see what a lot of trouble that got 
everybody into! 

Richard’. Do you call kissing trouble ? Seems to 
me a lot of people enjoy being in trouble! 

Suzzane. Now don’t argue. Mother says it’s 
improper and I say its improper—to do it in public. 

Richard. But this isn’t “in public.” 

Suzzane. Everybody running up and down stairs 
all the time—that makes it public enough, and be¬ 
sides it’s daylight. 

Richard. Does that make it public? 

Suzzane. Maybe not public—but it makes it con¬ 
spicuous ! 

Richard. Oh! 

Suzzane. Of course, after two people are en¬ 
gaged— 

Richard. Let’s get engaged ! 







t8 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Suzzane. We couldn’t do it right off like that. It 
takes a great deal of talking over—serious talking 
over. 

Richard. Then, for heaven’s sake, let’s talk it 
over. 


Suzzane. How can we—here? 

Richard. At least we can get started, can’t we? 
And we can finish it after dinner and then to-mor¬ 
row we’ll be engaged! Oh, Suzzane you wonderful 
girl! (He runs over and sits down beside her . She 
jumps up.) 

Suzzane. There! You’re forgetting already! 

Richard. But you said we had to talk it over, 
didn’t you ? 

Suzzane. Seriously. 

Richard. I’m serious. 

Suzzane. But—there—draw up that chair. 

Richard. (He pulls up a chair) There. Blow’s 
this ? 

Suzzane. Oh no, not so close! 

Richard. (He moves back) How’s this? 

Suzzane. That’s better. Now. 

Richard. Now. 

Suzzane. First of all—do you love me? 

Richard. (He jumps up) You know I adore 
you—I- 

Suzzane. Oh no—you mustn’t get up ! How 
are we going to talk it over seriously if you keep 
getting up? 

Richard. And how are we going to talk it over 
seriously if you keep asking silly questions? 

Suzzane. Di—Richard! 

Richard. I’m sorry. 

Suzzane. And are you sure, quite sure, that you 
will love me forever? 

Richard. Forever? Haven’t I always loved you? 
Why I've loved you for twenty-five years! 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


19 


Suzzane. I wasn't born then! 

Richard, Then, I mean Eve loved you ever since 
the day you were born, 

Suzzane. I suppose I might just as well tell you 
now that I am very fond of you. 

Richard. Suzzane! (He springs to her side.) 
Oh, Suzzane! 

Suzzane. We haven't half finished yet- 

Richard. Oh - (He sits down again.) 

Suzzane. Then—it’s quite evident that we love 
each other, is it not Die—er—Mr. Porter? 

Richard. Suzzane, you’re making fun of me! 
Don’t you see how I want—oh, I want to take you 
in my arms and- 

Suzzane. Dick ! No—no—we’re talking it over 
and you must not interrupt. 

Richard. Very well. 

Suzzane. As I was saying, it’s quite evident that 
we- 

Richard. Yes. That we love each other. 

Suzzane. And you are quite sure we should be 
happy and congenial together the rest of our lives? 

Richard. I know it. Em sure of it! Why, 
everything I do is for you. Every thought I think 
is for you. Every- 

Suzzane. And- 

Richard. Oh, Suzzane. Then we’re engag- 

(He kisses her.) 

Suzzane. Not at all. We haven’t come to the 
most important part yet! 

Richard. Efaven’t come to the most important 
part! Listen, let’s let that go until after dinner and 
mean while we’ll- 

Suzzane. No —now that we have started we 
might as well get it over with. 

Richard. Then while we finish Em going to sit 













20 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


down here by you, holding your hand like this. (He 
takes her hand.) 

Suzzane. Not at all! 

Richard. Oh, well, then. I’ll go back! (He goes 
to his chair again.) 

Suzzane. There- 

Richard. I suppose you want to know how much 
I have to support a wife and family on. 

Suzzane. Richard Porter! You are going al¬ 
together too fast. 

Richard. A wife—a wife. You know how much 
I make and - 

Suzzane. That isn’t important. 

Richard. Oh! I thought it was. What is next, 
then ? 

Suzzane. Of course you’ve got to ask father 
for- 

Richard. He’d make fun of me! 

Suzzane. Nevertheless it must be done. You 
know how mother is about things. 

("Mr. Grayson enters from the back.) 

Mr. Grayson. (He looks at them curiously) 
What are you sitting like that for? One would think 
you two had never seen each other before. 

Richard. (He rises) You see, Mr. Grayson, 
we have, that is Suzzane and I have just been talking 
things over. 

Mr. Grayson. Oh, that’s it. Talking what 
over ? 

Suzzane. Go on—go on. 

Richard. Yes, talking things over. You see, 
Suzzane and I have known each other a long time, 
haven’t we? 

Mr. Grayson. Yes, well rather. I think you 
were about five years old when Suzzane was born. 





AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 21 

Yes—I guess you two have known each other a long 

time. 

Richard. That’s just it. 

Suzzane. Yes, Father, that’s just it. And, of 
course, we understand each other perfectly. 

Mr. Grayson. Well, you ought to by this time, 
I should think. 

Richard. And so Suzzane says we’ve got to 
get- 

Suzzane. I did not! 

Richard. I mean—I said, that is, we both agreed 
that- 

Mr. Grayson. What under the sun are you two 
people trying to say to me? 

Richard. We want your consent to- 

Mr. Grayson. Yes? 

Richard. To get—to get- 

Mr. Grayson. To get what? 

Richard. To get engaged! That’s it, we want 
your consent to get—engaged! 

Mr. Grayson. Why didn’t you say that in the 
first place ? 

Richard. I tried to but- 

Suzzane. Yes, he tried to but- 

Mr. Grayson. So, young man, you want to take 
my daughter away from me, eh? 

Richard. It isn’t exactly taking her away from 
you, is it? 

Suzzane. Not at all, Father. 

Mr. Grayson. I’ve had my eye on you two peo¬ 
ple for a long time. 

Suzzane. How much have you seen? 

Mr. Grayson. It’s plain for the whole world to 
see. 

Suzzane. Oh! 

Mr. Grayson. Well, so far as I am concerned, 
I give you my blessing, my children, I give you my 










22 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


blessing. But, of course, mother has something to 
say about the matter . . . she’ll have a great deal 
to say about it. (He sees Mrs. Grayson.) Richard, 
did you say there were no clouds? Funny that . . . 
no clouds ... no clouds. (He hurries out.) 

Mrs. Grayson. What was your father saying? 
What will I have a great deal to say about? Do you 
hear me, about what ? 

Suzzane. He said you’d have a great deal to say 
about it. 

Mrs. Grayson. About what? 

Suzzane. About Richard and me. ... I mean 
about our being engaged. 

Mrs. Grayson. But you’re not engaged! 

Richard. That’s just it, Mrs. Grayson, we’re not 
engaged but we should be. 

Suzzane. Yes! 

Mrs. Grayson. You two . . . hardly out of pig 
tails and short trousers ! It’s absurd ! 

Richard. But we are desperately in love. 

Suzzane. And that being the case there’s no tell¬ 
ing what may happen. 

Mrs. Grayson. Suzzane! 

Richard. But, Mrs. Grayson - 

Mrs. Grayson. It’s absurd . . . ridiculous and 
foolish. 

Suzzane. (Weakly) But we love each other. 

Mrs. Grayson. My dear, haven’t I enough to 
think about as it is ? Here is this woman on my 
hands—this- 

Richard. We’ll take care of her. 

Mrs. Grayson. I’d like to see anyone take care 
of that woman. (Aunt Betty comes dozmi the stairs. 
Mrs. Grayson sees her.) Let us talk no more about 
these absurd notions of yours. 

Richard. You mean we are not to be engaged? 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


23 


Mrs. Grayson. In the first place you can’t sup¬ 
port a wife. 

Richard. I get eighteen hundred a year and - 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh, nonsense. 

Richard. But we’ve always loved each other. 

Mrs. Grayson. Nevertheless- 

Aunt Betty. Oh, I’m sorry to have interrupted. 
Shall 1 go hack upstairs ? 

Mrs. Grayson. No. 

Suzzane. Aunt Betty, Richard and I want to- 

Mrs. Grayson. Say no more about it. 

Richard. But we- 

Mrs. Grayson. You heard me, did you not? (She 
turns.) Betty, did you have a pleasant journey East? 

Aunt Betty. Splendid. Met a traveling sales¬ 
man from Minneapolis. We sat up all night in the 
smoker and played poker. 

Mrs. Grayson. Betty! How did you dare- 

Betty. Dare? No harm in a friendly little game 
of poker is there? 

Mrs. Grayson. But with a stranger! 

Aunt Betty. He wasn’t a stranger . . . knew 
a friend of mine down in Cheyenne. Besides, out 
where I come from there aren’t any strangers. Out 
there we are all just plain human beings doing the 
best we can. 

Mrs. Grayson. But I must say, Betty, that I do 
not consider playing poker very—er—lady-like. 

Aunt Betty. I never for a moment thought 
you would—not because you dislike the game par¬ 
ticularly, but because you’re afraid of what people 
might say. Isn’t that it ? 

Mrs. Grayson. Perhaps- 

Aunt Betty. Well, you know, out where I come 
from we have a saying, “Be sure you’re right and 
then go straight ahead’’ and what people think or 
say or do, doesn’t matter a—damn! 








2 4 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Mrs. Grayson. (Suzzane laughs.) You’d better 
tell your father to get ready for dinner, my dear. 
(Suzzane starts toward the veranda. She turns.) 
Mother, haven’t you forgotten something? 

Mrs. Grayson. Forgotten something? No—I 
think not. But of course the day has been so ex¬ 
citing that- 

Suzzane. Isn’t Sir Thomas coming to dinner this 
evening ? 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh! I had forgotten it com¬ 
pletely ! Forgotten all about it! (She runs to the 
stairs.) William! William! Where is your father? 

Mr. Grayson. (From the veranda) Yes— 

Kathrine. 

Mrs. Grayson. William! 

Mr. Grayson. (He appears) You calling me? 

Mrs. Grayson. Come at once and dress for 
dinner. 

Mr. Grayson. Dress? Why, it’s only the family. 

Mrs. Grayson. Don’t stand there arguing with me ! 

Mr. Grayson. I’m not going to dress this sort 
of weather. 

Mrs. Grayson. William! 

Mr. Grayson. (He goes to her) Yes, my dear. 

Mrs. Grayson. Sir Thomas Lord is to be here 
for dinner. I had quite forgotten. He may arrive 
at any moment! (She starts upstairs. Mr. Gray¬ 
son tags at her heels sheepishly.) 

Richard. Oh. Mrs. Grayson, may I stay to 
dinner ? 

Mrs. Grayson. In golf clothes! Certainly not! 

Aunt Betty. Look at me ! He ought to stay and 
keep me company. 

Mrs. Grayson. (She stops) Aren’t you going 
to dress, Betty? 

Aunt Betty. No. . . . I’m tired. Besides a 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 




man doesn t much care how people are dressed so 
long as he gets a good dinner. 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh! (She goes upstairs.) 

Aunt Betty. Who is this— this—Sir Thomas 
Lord ? 

Suzzane. Oh, he’s a great find. Mother has 
been after him for weeks. 

Richard. An Englishman. 

Aunt Betty. Young? 

Richard. No— middle-aged, lie’s over here lec¬ 
turing on rocks and things, lie’s a geologist and 
writes books. 

Aunt Betty. Oh. 

Richard. I met, just met him at the Nassau 
Club one afternoon. A very good lecturer—and 
very English. (lie funis.) Well, I suppose I can’t 
stay to dinner. 

-Suzzane. I wish you could! 

Richard. But your mother objects—and there 
you are! 

Aunt Betty. Hump! She objects to everything, 
doesn’t she? 

Suzzane. Almost everything. 

Aunt Betty. You stay to dinner, young man. 
Til take the consequences. 

Richard. Shall 1 stay? 

Suzzane. Yes - 

Richard. But - 

Aunt Betty. Of course you’ll stay. Isn’t this 
—this—what’s his name? 

Suzzane. Sir Thomas Lord. 

Aunt Betty. Yes, this Sir Thomas Lord a 
friend of yours? 

Richard. Oh, no, I’ve just met him once. 

Aunt Betty. How many times do you have to 
meet a man before he becomes a friend ? Out where 
1 come from once is quite enough. 





26 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Suzzane. But, you see, here in the East things 
are different. 

Aunt Betty. Yes, very different. Before you 
can ask a man to dinner here you must see his pedi¬ 
gree—out where I come from you look him straight 
in the eye and if you like him you ask him to eat. 

Richard. And if you don’t like him? 

Aunt Betty. (She laughs) Shoot him! 

Richard. The West has great philosophy. 

Aunt Betty. And a great future, my boy. Out 
there it’s “Live and let live.” Oh, that reminds me. 
You two are in love with each other, aren’t you ? 

Suzzane. Oh, but- 

Aunt Betty. Yes, I thought so. 

Richard. How did you know ? 

Aunt Betty. One would have to be deaf, dumb 
and blind not to know. 

Suzzane. Oh! 

Aunt Betty. Engaged ? 

Richard. No. 

Aunt Betty. Act like it. Why don’t you get 
engaged ? 

Richard. Mrs. Grayson objects. 

Aunt Betty. That’s nothing. She objects to 
everything new—always has. 

Suzzane. She says we don’t know each other 
well enough yet. 

Aunt Betty. Don’t know each other! Raised 
together. (The Maid enters.) 

Maid. It’s Mr.—er—Sir Thomas Lord. 

Suzzane. Oh, dear, Mother and Father aren’t 
down yet. Is dinner ready ? 

Maid. It is all ready. 

Aunt Betty. Show the gentleman in. I’m fam¬ 
ished ! (The maid goes out.) Didn’t realize how 
hungry I was until I heard her say dinner was ready. 
(Sir Thomas enters from the left.) 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


27 


How do you do? 

Oh—I- 

It’s all right, all right- 


Aunt Betty. 

Sir Thomas. 

Aunt Betty. 

Sir Thomas. Awfully sorry I’m late. 

Aunt Betty. (She takes his hand) Oh, are 
you late? I’m Mrs. Cornish, Mrs. Betty Cornish 
of Butte—Mr. Grayson’s sister. 

Sir Thomas. .Charmed—charmed. From Butte, 
eh? Let me see, that’s in—in- 

Aunt Betty. Montana. 

Sir Thomas. Oh, yes, of course, I’ve heard a 
great deal about it. Charming city, I understand. 

Aunt Betty. Yes, very. We have the largest 
grave-yard in the world. 

Sir Thomas. Eh? Grave-yard? 

Yes—yes, over a million people— 


Aunt Betty. 
dead ones. 

Sir Thomas. 
nary! 

Aunt Betty. 
son. 

Sir Thomas. 
Aunt Betty. 


’Pon my word. How extraordi- 
And this is my niece, Miss Gray- 


Charmed. 

And here’s a friend of yours— 
Mr. Richard Porter ... an old friend of yours. 

Sir Thomas. How do you do? 

Richard. Good evening, sir. I had the pleasure 
of hearing your very interesting lecture at the Nas¬ 


sau Club last week. 

Aunt Betty. See! (She laughs) He knows 
all about you! 

Sir Thomas. Eh! Oh. 

Aunt Betty. Old friend of yours from—from 
Nassau. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes . . . 

Aunt Betty. Teaches mathematics at Princeton. 
Suzzane. And writes, too- 







28 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Aunt Betty. Yes, and writes. A very promis¬ 
ing young man. 

Sir Thomas. A professor, eh? Met thirty or 
forty the day I lectured. Charming place. 

Aunt Betty. Yes, I was sure you would re¬ 
member Richard, Mr. Porter. 

Sir Thomas. Well, really, I--- 

Aunt Betty. Suppose you’re as hungry as a 
bear—men usually are. And I’m starved. 

Suzzane. Perhaps I’d better call Mother and 
Father? 

Aunt Betty. No . . . no. Don’t see any use 
in waiting. They’ll be down soon. No use in wait¬ 
ing if we are all hungry. We might just as well go 
along in. (She takes Sir Thomas’ arm and drags 
him toward the dining-room.) This way. Can’t 
keep a hungry man waiting—makes ’em cross! Come 
along, children. (They go into the dining room. 
Mr. Grayson comes downstairs.) 

Mr. Grayson. Suzzane! Suzzane! Come and 
tie this beastly tie for me! (He goes toward the ve¬ 
randa.) Don’t see what in thunder I had to dress on 
a night like this for anyhow. (Laughter is heard from 
the dining room. He tiptoes to the door. Mrs. 
Grayson comes down the stairs.) 

Mrs. Grayson. William, will you- 

Mr. Grayson. (Waving frantically) Sh—he’s 
here—in there! 

Mrs. Grayson. What? 

Mr. Grayson. In the dining room! 

Mrs. Grayson. Well, of all the nerve- 

Mr. Grayson. Sh- 

Mrs. Grayson. (She starts toward the dining 
room) Well, I’ll show her she can’t- 

Mr. Grayson. Come and tie my tie—I can’t go 
in this way! 







AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


29 

Mrs. Grayson. Stand still! Seems to me a man 
of your age ought to be able to tie his own tie! 

Mr. Grayson. Now don’t start that. You know 
I never could tie a bow. 

Mrs. Grayson. In three days I’ll be in a sani¬ 
tarium ! 

Mr. Grayson. (Absent mindedly) What a re¬ 
lief! 

Mrs. Grayson. Eh! 

Mr. Grayson. I mean to have my tie tied, my 
dear. 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh. (They start toward the 
dining room) 

CURTAIN 


s 



ACT II 


The same, tzvo weeks later. 

Mr. Grayson. Now, my dear, don’t start that 
again. You have been saying the same thing for the 
last two weeks. 

Mrs. Grayson. I can’t stand another day of her 
. . . not another day! 

Mr. Grayson, My dear- 

Mrs. Grayson. I’ll be in a sanitarium! 

Mr. Grayson. (Trying to hide behind the maga¬ 
zine he is reading) You said the same thing two 
weeks ago. 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh! Oh! At least you might 
try to be sympathetic! 

Mr. Grayson. Now, my dear- 

Mrs. Grayson. But you aren’t. It’s only my 
strength of mind, my determination, that has kept 
me from going to the hospital. The evening she 
came she said she couldn’t possibly stay more than 
three days— three days at the longest. But she keeps 
staying on and on and on ! 

Mr. Grayson. Has she said anything about go¬ 
ing home ? 

Mrs. Grayson. She's always saying it. She’s 
always telling how much she is needed in Butte. 
It’s forever. “Out where I come from.” I shudder 
every time she says it! 

Mr. Grayson. Now, my dear- 

Mrs. Grayson. Now, my dear, nothing! Wil¬ 
liam, I’m a nervous wreck ! 

Mrs. Grayson. She came East to do business 
but instead of going into New York and attending 

30 





AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


3i 


to it respectably and properly she does all her busi¬ 
ness here—here in my drawing room! For the last 
three days this room, this very room, has been filled 
with odds and ends from everywhere—corporation 
lawyers, and agents and brokers and—and I don’t 
know who all! One would think this were a hotel 
lobby instead of a quiet home in the country. What 
do you suppose the neighbors are saving? I won’t 
have my house turned into a hotel! I won’t! 

Mr. Grayson. Are you quite sure this room is 
quite like a hotel lobby? Just because Betty has a 
few men from- 

Mrs. Grayson. Few! There have been three 
different men here on three different days! And 
that’s not counting you and Sir Thomas and Richard 
Porter! 

Mr. Grayson. Hum—Sir Thomas seems to be 
here quite often lately. 

Mrs. Grayson. Yes, but I never get a word with 
him with her around. (The maid enters. Her arms 
are filled with bundles.) 

Maid. They are for Mrs. Cornish. 

Mrs. Grayson. Put them in her room, Mary. 

Maid. Yes, ma’am. (The maid goes upstairs.) 

Mrs. Grayson. You see! That’s what Eve got 
to put up with all day long, every day in the week, 
every hour in the day! Turning my house into a 
hotel. 

Mr. Grayson. I suppose Betty wants to buy a 
few little things such as—urn—a few little things 
before she goes back to Butte. 

Mrs. Grayson. A few ... a few!!! What 
can she ever do with them all—in Butte! She’s got 
the house filled with new hats, and shoes, and gowns 
and negligee—trunks full! It will take a truck to 
move her! Turning my house into a storage place 
for her things! My house! (The bell rings.) 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


.U 


Mr, Grayson. Who's that? 

Mrs. Grayson. Heaven only knows! It may he 
a corporation lawyer, it may be the matron of the 
Old Ladies’ Home, it may be another armful of 
packages or a telegram or it may be—heaven only 
knows what it may or may not he. (The maid 
enters.) It was the door-bell, Mary. (The maid 
goes out left.) I no longer know who to expect in 
my own house ... or what to expect. (The maid 
enters with a letter.) 

Maid. It’s a special delivery for Mrs. Cornish. 
I signed for it. 

Mrs. Grayson. Put it there on the table. (The 
maid puts down the letter. Goes out, right) 

Mrs. Grayson. That’s the third one she’s had 
today! Anyone would think my house was a broker’s 
office! I feel like a stenographer! When I’m not 
signing for her letters, I’m answering the telephone, 
and when I’m not answering the telephone, I’m car¬ 
rying up her packages and bundles—and in my own 
house! 

Mr. Grayson. After all it is her house. 

Mrs. Grayson. Throw that at me! It seems to 
be the only thing in your mind! Her home! Her 
house ! Her house ! 

Mr. Grayson. Now, my dear - 

Mrs. Grayson. If I had known twenty years 
ago that it could ever have come to this, William, 
I never would have set foot in this house, never! 
And what’s more if this is her house I shall move 
out and leave it to her! 

Mr. Grayson. My dear- 

Mrs. Grayson. I repeat, William, I shall move 
out. For twenty years we have lived together in 
peace and harmony but I’m not going to stand for 
a woman, a bold unsexed woman- 





AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


33 


Mr. Grayson. My dear-—— 

Mrs. Grayson. Any woman that runs mines and 
ranches and politics, my dear, must be! Any woman, 
even though she is your sister, William, who sits 
here in my living-room talking and laughing with 
corporation lawyers and ordering tea for them, 
ordering tea for them, from my own maid, right 
under my nose—oh ! 

Mr. Grayson. Tea? 

Mrs. Grayson. Tea! But I never stay! Indeed 
I do not! I go to my rooms and have tea there 
. . . quietly and respectably as any woman should! 

Mr. Grayson. Surely there is no harm in giving 
a cup of tea to- 

Mrs. Grayson. That isn’t all of it. Indeed not! 

Mr. Grayson. You mean? 

Mrs. Grayson. I mean she, at least I have a 
suspicion, that she serves more than tea! There is 
always a strange odor in this room! 

Mr. Grayson. (He sniffs) Can’t notice it. 

Mrs. Grayson. Nevertheless, it’s here! 

Mr. Grayson. Perhaps it’s Sir Thomas Lord’s 
hair oil. 

Mrs. Grayson. William, don’t be ridiculous! 
Sir Thomas hasn’t enough hair to oil! Besides I 
believe I’m old enough to know the difference be¬ 
tween oil and—and—intoxicating liquors ! 

Mr. Grayson. Hm- 

Mrs. Grayson. And cigar ashes! I forgot to 
mention the cigar ashes! 

Mr. Grayson. Good Lord, you don’t think Betty 
smokes cigars ? 

Mrs. Grayson. I suspect her of everything! 

Mr. Grayson. You always were particular about 
—cigar ashes. 

Mrs. Grayson. After one of her teas—with 





34 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


these strange men the house is like a—pig-pen! 
Cigar ashes on my carpet! 

Mr. Grayson. Hm - 

Mrs. Grayson. I’m not a woman like your sis¬ 
ter, William. I’m a womanly woman, but your 
sister Betty is a—is a- 

Mr. Grayson. (He rises) My dear, I’m tired 
of this talk about my sister. You scold and fume 
and fret about her the minute I get up in the morn¬ 
ing and you lambast her and turn her inside out the 
minute I get home from the office. I’m tired of it. 

Mrs. Grayson. And I’m tired of her. (Mr. 
Grayson walks to the window and baek. Picks up 
a magazine, slams it down. Walks to the window 
again ) 

Mr. Grayson. Where is Suzzane? 

Mrs. Grayson. I never know where she is any 
more. She’s forever flying about with her Aunt 
Betty or Richard Porter—I never see her except at 
meal times. William, that boy has come to me every 
single day for the last two weeks to- 

Mr. Grayson. He’s persistent. 

Mrs. Grayson. It began the day Betty arrived 
and has gone on every day since. 

Mr. Grayson. Then why don’t you tell him he 
can have Suzzane, give them your blessing, and have 
it over with ? 

Mrs. Grayson. Sir Thomas would make an 
ideal son-in-law. 

Mr. Grayson. Sir Thomas! Good God! 

Mrs. Grayson. Yes, he would. I think he really 
likes Suzzane very much. 

Mr. Grayson. He’s old enough to be her father! 

Mrs. Grayson. I can’t see that age, age has 
much to do with it! And he’s so refined, so cultured, 
so comme-il-faut . . . not to mention his social 
standing. 





35 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 

Mr. Grayson. It’s absurd ! 

Mrs. Grayson. Absurd? 

Mr. Grayson. I have quite enough to do to make 
a respectable living for my family as it is without 
taking on another. 

Mrs. Grayson. How can you talk of a learned 
gentleman in that way? He probably has a much 
larger income than you have . . . and at least he 
has a house of his own! 

Mr. Grayson. My dear, your idea is so—so— 
foolish. I suppose you have visions of spending the 
rest of your days at St. James’s Court. Has Sir 
Thomas Lord ever intimated that he was the least 
bit interested in Suzzane ? 

Mrs. Grayson. Sir Thomas, my dear, is a gen¬ 
tleman ! 

Mr. Grayson. Hm. Then I suppose - 

Mrs. Grayson. What chance has the poor man 
to intimate anything! He comes to the house often 
enough. He comes every day! 

Mr. Grayson. Yes, but - 

Mrs. Grayson. Betty gobbles him—that’s the 
word—gobbles him. One would think from the way 
she acts that he came to see her! New clothes, new 
everything! She’s even taken up golf and motoring, 
and sailing and hunting! Dear Sir Thomas, she 
makes his life miserable! 

Mr. Grayson. He seems to like it. Though they 
say an Englishman is never happy unless he’s mis¬ 
erable. 

Mrs. Grayson. He’s got to pretend he likes it. 
Sir Thomas is a gentleman ... as for Betty she’s 
a—she’s a—oh, I wish she would go back to Butte 
where she belongs! William, I cannot stand that 
woman! 

Mr. Grayson. Oh, then, why don’t you tell her 
that? 





AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


36 

Mrs. Grayson. (She rises) I will tell her! 
My nerves have reached the breaking point! My 
head aches, my back aches, my voice aches- 

Mr. Grayson. My God! 

Mrs. Grayson. (She stamps upstairs) The 
breaking point! 

Mr. Grayson. (He sits down) Well, I’ll be- 

(He rises, tries to whistle, but fails in the attempt.) 

Well, I’ll be- (Suzzane and Richard appear at 

the window.) 

Suzzane. Oh, hello. Father. You’re home early. 

Mr. Grayson. Eh? Oh, hello. 

Suzzane. Where is Mother? 

Mr. Grayson. She just—oh, she just went up 
—upstairs, I mean. She’s a bit tired. 

Suzzane. Oh. 

Mr. Grayson. Anything particular? 

Suzzane. Dick wants to speak to her. 

Mr. Grayson. Can’t you tell me? 

Richard. We have. 

Mr. Grayson. Oh, you mean that? 

Richard. Yes. 

Mr. Grayson. Oh ! Oh ! 

Suzzane. We want it settled—and we can’t get 
engaged until Mother- 

Mr. Grayson. Good Lord, don’t mention that 
today! Don’t mention that! (He goes out on the 
veranda.) 

Suzzane. We’re alone! 

Richard. (He sighs) Yes. But what’s the fun 
of it? We aren’t engaged and we can’t- 

Suzzane. But we shall be soon. 

Richard. I’ve asked your mother every single 
day for the last two weeks. It’s getting so she runs 
every time she sees me! 

Suzzane. Poor Mother. 

Richard. Cruel Mother . . . poor me! 







AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


37 


Suzzane. Dick, Dick, of course we aren’t really 
engaged but we’re almost and under those circum¬ 
stances— 

Yes- 


Richard. 
Suzzane. 
Richard. 
Suzzane. 
that! 

Richard. 

Suzzane. 

Richard. 


Father has given his consent. 

And we’ve got Aunt Betty on our side. 
Sh! Don’t let mother hear you say 


It’s true. 

Yes . . . but you must be careful! 
I’m tired of being careful. I just 
want to take you in my arms and- 

Suzzane. We’re sort of half engaged, and in 
that case there are certain exceptions. (She puck¬ 
ers up her mouth. Richard kisses her.) And that’s 
the exception! 

Richard. Suzzane, you’re wonderful! 

Suzzane. I’m glad you think so, Dick. 

Richard. Let’s have another—exception ! 

Suzzane. Come and get it. 

Richard. Um. (He takes her in his arms. Mr. 
Grayson appears at the window.) Not a clo—oh, 
pardon me! Pardon me! (He hacks out.) 

Suzzane. Oh! 

It was only your Father. 

But it may be Mother next time and 


Richard. 
Suzzane. 
then- 


Is there going to be a next time ? 
Isn’t there? (Suddenly) I shall get 


Richard. 

Suzzane. 
you some tea. 

Richard. No, let’s sit here and talk. 

Suzzane. All right. What shall we talk about? 
(They sit down.) 

Richard. You. 

Suzzane. No, let’s talk about—oh. what differ¬ 
ence does it make so long as we talk ? 






38 AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 

Richard. There is so much to talk about with 
you. 

Suzzane. Oh! (There is a long pause.) Td 
better order tea. Aunt Betty and Sir Thomas will 
be in soon. What time is it? 

Richard. It’s after five. 

Suzzane. Yes, they ought to be along. He’ll 
want tea. He always wants tea. (She calls) Mary! 
Mary! Dick, have you ever noticed anything about 

- (The Maid enters from dining roomi) Will 

you bring in the tea things, Mary ? 

Maid. Lemon ? 

Suzzane. Won’t you have a cup, Dick? 

Richard. No —really. 

Suzzane. Then just bring cream, Mary. (The 
maid goes out) 

Suzzane. Have you noticed ? 

Richard. What? Who? 

Suzzane. Sir Thomas. 

Richard. No ... he just sits around and never 
says a word. 

Suzzane. But you ought to hear him talk when 
he’s alone with Aunt Betty. 

Richard. T have sort of noticed that. 

Suzzane. That's it. 

Richard. You mean-? 

Suzzane. And haven’t you noticed the way Aunt 
Betty keeps at his heels ? 

Richard. Seems to me he keeps at her heels! 
But I can’t for the life of me imagine Aunt Betty 
in London as—as Lady Betty of Bertsmanor. 

Suzzane. Oh, I think she never will be in Lon¬ 
don as- 

Richard. Nor can I imagine Sir Thomas Lord. 
F. R. G. S., and all the rest of it, being at home in 
Butte, Montana. 

Suzzane. I think that will never be either. 





39 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 

Richard. I hen what do you mean ? 

Suzzane. Dear old stupid. Oh, you don’t know 
the ways of fond mothers. 

Richard. \\ hat has your mother got to do with 
it ? 

Suzzane. (She loughs) Don’t you see? 

Richard. No . . . no. I’m afraid I don’t. 

Suzzane. I believe mother would rather like to 
have an Englishman for a son-in-law. 

Richard. Suzzane! You don’t mean - 

Suzzane. That’s just what I do mean. 

Richard. But you wouldn’t? 

Suzzane. Goose! Of course not! And we al¬ 
most engaged ? 

Richard. And so. that’s why your mother won’t 
let us go ahead ? 

Suzzane. And that’s the reason Aunt Betty 
keeps at Sir Thomas’ heels! Aunt Betty is on out¬ 
side . . . and she’s not going to leave until she sees 
us safely engaged. I’m sure of that. 

Richard. She’s a peach. 

Suzzane. She’s an old dear. 

Richard. Think of her running around every¬ 
where, doing everything—golfing, fishing, motoring, 
just to keep him occupied! Just for our sakes. 
She’s a wonder! 

Suzzane. I wish Sir Thomas would go home or 
wherever he’s going. I don’t see why he wants to 
stay here anyhow. 

Richard. Neither do I. (The maid brings in 
the tea things.) 

Suzzane. Put them there on the table. Aunt 
Betty ought to be in at any moment. 

Maid. Oh, here is a special delivery for Mrs. 
Cornish. It came just now. 

Suzzane. Wonder what that can be? 

Maid. She gets a lot of them lately . . . and 




40 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


telegrams, too. Three today, four yesterday, two 
the day before that and- 

Suzzane. Yes. I know. 1 shall see that she gets 
this one. leave it there on the table. (The maid goes 
out.) 

Richard. Special delivery letters. 

Suzzane. Suppose they are anxious for her out 
in Butte. Won't you have a cup of tea? Just one? 

Richard. Nope. I’m not going to waste time 
drinking tea when I’ve a chance to be with you— 
alone! These chances come seldom enough as it is. 

Suzzane. You dear. (She puts her hand over 
his.) You do love me, don’t you? 

Richard. You know very well I adore you. 

Suzzane. It gives me a warm, comfortable feel¬ 
ing way down, deep inside, to have you feel that 
way about me. 

Richard. (He kisses her) You dear! 

Suzzane. And sometimes—sometimes when your 
books and plays begin to sell we shall have a little 
home all of our own. 

Rtchard. All of our own ... I hope that will 
be soon. (They slide down on the divan so that 
they are almost hidden.) 

Suzzane. And a garden. 

Richard. (His face is very close to hers) And 
all the love in the world! (They go on talking . 
Aunt Betty, followed by Sir Thomas, enters from 
the left.) 

Aunt Betty. (Softly) Nobody here . . . and 
the tea things all ready. 

Sir Thomas. Charming . . . charming . . . Mrs. 
Cornish, to be alone with you—and tea. (They sit 
down in the big divan in front of the tea things.) 

Aunt Betty. You’ve been alone with me all 
afternoon. 

Sir Thomas. Not all afternoon. 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


4i 


Aunt Betty. Most of it. 

Sir Thomas. O11 a golf links! By jove, you did 
drive that fourth hole! It's astonishing the way you 
have learned to play golf. Astonishing! You will 
forgive me, but I must say that most women are 
such—such—to use your American word—such 
dubs at golf. 

Aunt Betty. (She looks at him a moment) 
There are so many things you could teach me, Sir 
Thomas. 

Sir Thomas. Hm—Hm—As I was saying, Mrs. 
Cornish, I’ve wanted to see you alone—for many 
days now. To see you, quite alone. 

Aunt Betty. You did see me alone—on the golf 
links—most of the afternoon. 

Sir Thomas. Oh. Mrs. Cornish, there are some 
things which can’t be said on a golf links. 

Aunt Betty. And, it seems to me, there are 
many things said on golf links that shouldn’t be 
said. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes. Oh, by jove, clever, 
that. You’re always clever! But as I was saying 
—oh, I know you’ll think me an old fool for saying 
it. (He feels for her hand.) You’ll think me a 
silly ass for saying it, but- 

Aunt Betty. Go ahead and say it—speak out! 

Suzzane. (She jumps up) Oh! When did you 
two come in ? 

Aunt Betty. When did you two come in? 

Suzzane. Why, we’ve been here all the time— 
that is—since- 

Richard. Did you have a good game of golf? 

Aunt Betty. Yes— did you? 

Richard. We didn’t play. 

Suzzane. We went walking instead. 

Aunt Betty. Yes, yes—I understand. 






AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


4 2 

Sir Thomas. (Who had regained his breath and 
his monacle) Beastly warm. 

Suzzane. I ordered tea. You see, Richard and 
I didn’t really care for it but we were sure you’d 
want it. So we ordered it and- 

Aunt Betty. Oh, thank you, Suzzane. (Point¬ 
edly ) Weren’t you and Richard looking over some 
books in the library? 

Richard. No— no, we weren’t looking at any 
books. 

Aunt Betty. Oh, I thought you were. Suzzane, 
your father brought home several new magazines. 
They are in the library. (To Sir ThomasJ Tea? 
You like it strong, don’t you? 

Sir Thomas. My word, you remember every¬ 
thing. 

Aunt Betty (Pouring a cup of tea) And milk. 
Suzzane, you and Richard ought to sit out on the 
porch. It’s cooler out there. 

Suzzane. Oh, but father is out there taking a 
nap . . . we don’t want to disturb him. 

Aunt Betty. Oh! (She hands the cup to Sir 
Thomas.J 

Sir Thomas. There . . . there . . . thank you, 
Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. I hope it’s the way you like it. 

Sir Thomas. Just right. (He settles back.) 
How comfortable and homey you make one feel, 
Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. ( Looking hard at Suzzane and 
Richard ) But I dislike having so many people 
around. (Suzzane nudges Richard.J 

Richard. You said yesterday that you liked to 
have lots of people around at tea-time. 

Aunt Betty. Did I? Did I? Well, Eve changed 
my mind. It’s much cozier to have- 

Richard. We aren’t many. Just four of us. 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


43 

Aunt Betty. Two too many ! (Suzzane nudges 
Richard again.) 

Richard. What is it? 

Suzzane. (She winks) Come to think of it we 
were looking- at some books in the library. 

Richard. No, we weren’t. 

Suzzane. And I do want to see the new maga¬ 
zines. Come along. (She and Richard go out left.) 

Aunt Betty. There—another cup. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes, if you don’t mind. 
(She pours him another cup of tea.) 

Aunt Betty. And milk . . . there. You were 
saying something, Sir Thomas, when we were in¬ 
terrupted. 

Sir Thomas. My word, those young people bob¬ 
bing up that way! They have quite taken the words 
out of my mouth! I mean to say- 

Aunt Betty. You haven’t forgotten what you 
were going to tell me! 

Sir Thomas. No— no—oh, no! 

Aunt Betty. Then it will come back. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes . . . it’s in my head 
. . . but so beastly difficult to get out, you know. 

Aunt Betty. Oh. 

Sir Thomas. My dear Mrs. Cornish, it can’t be 
said with a tea-cup in one’s hand, you know. It 
can’t be said in that way, really. 

Aunt Betty. And it can’t be said while playing 
golf—it must be something very important. 

Sir Thomas. Oh, Mrs. Cornish, it is important 
. . . very, very important. 

Aunt Betty. (She jumps up) Oh! Oh! And 
I’d forgotten all about it ! 

Sir Thomas. (Jumping up) Has anything 
happened ? 

Aunt Betty. (Running upstairs) I shall be 
right down. It’s a surprise for you. 



44 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Sir Thomas. Oh—oh—my word! ( Sir Thomas 
hums to himself contentedly. Mr. Grayson wan¬ 
ders in from the back.) 

Mr. Grayson. Oh, good afternoon, Sir Thomas. 
Didn’t know you were here. 

Sir Thomas. Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Grayson, 
good afternoon. Just got here, matter of fact. Just 
got here. We’ve been playing golf all afternoon. 

Mr. Grayson. You and Richard? 

Sir Thomas. Not at all, Mrs. Cornish. 

Mr. Grayson. Didn’t know she played. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes, wonderful form, 
you know. 

Mr. Grayson. Eh? 

Sir Thomas. Quite wonderful at mashie shots 
and handles a brassy like an old player. Of course 
putting takes a—a—great deal of practice. 

Mr. Grayson. Yes . . . yes- 

Sir Thomas. Oh. Yes, Mrs. Cornish is doing 
splendidly. But if you don’t mind my saying so, 
Mr. Grayson, your sister is a most unusual woman 
. . . most unusual. 

Mr. Grayson. Yes. Oh. Mrs. Grayson must 
be upstairs. I shall run up and tell her you are here. 

Sir Thomas. Oh — oh, please don’t bother. 

Mr. Grayson. No bother at all, I’m sure - 

Sir Thomas. But you mustn’t disturb her. 

Mr. Grayson. Oh, Em sure she’ll want to see 
you. (He starts upstairs. Aunt Betty comes 
down.) 

Aunt Betty. T thought you were taking a nap. 

Mr. Grayson. Was, but the sun’s going down. 
Shines right on the veranda. I was just going to 
call Kathrine. 

Aunt Betty. William, you let your wife take 
her nap. She needs the rest. 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


45 

Mr. Grayson. Well, if you say so of course I 
shan't call her, but- 

Aunt Betty. Don’t. 

Mr. Grayson. Then I’ll sit here and have a cup 
of tea with you and Sir Thomas. 

Aunt Betty. No, indeed not! I’m not your 
wife, William, and therefore have no right to tell 
you what is good and what is not good for you— 
but really, you shouldn’t drink so much tea. 

Mr. Grayson. But Kathrine always lets me 
drink tea. 

Aunt Betty. Yes, yes ... I know, but she 
shouldn’t. Now you go out on the porch and have 
a good nap. 

Mr. Grayson. I’ve just had a nap. No, I’ll sit 
here and talk to Sir Thomas. (Aunt Betty takes 
him by the arm arid inarches him to the veranda.) 

Aunt Betty. You really should get more air. 
You spend altogether too much time in-doors. 

Mr. Grayson. Yes, yes, I suppose I do. (lie 
goes out.) 

Aunt Betty. There! 

Sir Thomas. Oh, Mrs. Cornish, you’re so—so 
really American. 

Aunt Betty. Look! I brought it all the way 
from Butte. (He holds up a black leather flask.) 

Sir Thomas. My word! 

Aunt Betty. Now you must have another cup 
of tea with a little of this in it. Do you worlds of 
good. 

Sir Thomas. No . . . no, really. There’s no 
use, you know, spoiling them both. I’ll just take 
a little without the tea, Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. You’ll have it straight? There’s 
a man. (She pours out a tall drink.) There. Do 
you worlds of good! (She hands him the glass.) 

Sir Thomas. Thank you. 



46 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Aunt Betty. Didn't know you’d really cared 
for it. But the longer I live the more Em convinced 
that you can’t tell what a man is by just looking at 
him—men are like race horses in that respect. (Sir 
Thomas, who has been chuckling over the glass in 
his hand, has not heard a word.) 

Sir Thomas. Aren’t you . . . aren’t you going 
to have a little? 

Aunt Betty. Yes, darned if I won’t. ( She 
pours herself a drink, conies round and sits down 
beside Sir Thomas .) 

Sir Thomas. It’s a rather big drink you have 
given me, Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. But it’s very mild . . . very mild. 
(They drink.) 

Sir Thomas. Hm! You say you got this in 
Butte? My word. 

Aunt Betty. Oh, you’d like Butte. 

Sir Thomas. I’m sure I would. Yes, I know I 
would. And, by the by, Mrs. Cornish, I’m- 

Aunt Betty. Yes? 

Sir Thomas. I’m sure you’d like England. 

Aunt Betty. Oh, yes . . . yes. (She takes his 
glass.) Just a wee bit more? 

Sir Thomas. Well, I am going a bit heavy—but 
really, if you don’t mind. 

Aunt Betty. Good stuff! I knew you would. 
Out where I come from they say a wise man knows 
a good thing when he sees it. (Laughter is heard 
from the library. Sir Thomas turns.) Just the 
children. 

Str Thomas. Oh. 

Aunt Betty. They are very much in love. 

Sir Thomas. So I’ve noticed. 

Aunt Betty, It must be wonderful to be young * 
and in love. 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


47 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes, but look here, Mrs. 
Cornish, need one be so very young? 

Aunt Betty. Oh, no. And they are going to be 
married. 

Sir 1 homas. You know, it's quite extraordinary 
here in America. 

Aunt Betty. What? 

Sir Thomas. So many of your young people 
marry for love—it’s seldom done in England. 

Aunt Betty. Out where I come from we con¬ 
sider love the greatest thing in the world. 

Sir Thomas. Most unusual. (Pause.) My 
word, Mrs. Cornish, that stuff does put an edge on 
one, doesn’t it? (He chuckles to himself.) Oh. 
bloto! 

Aunt Betty. Yes. Oh, Sir Thomas, didn’t you 
say you had something to tell me? 

Sir Thomas. I almost feel as if I could say it. 
My word! It takes courage but I’m getting on, I’m 
getting on. (He feels for her hand, takes it.) 

Aunt Betty. (She sighs) Sir Thomas. 

Sir Thomas. Mrs. Cornish. (There is a long 
contented pause.) 

Sir Thomas. Do you realize—I’m—I’m—hold¬ 
ing your hand? 

Aunt Betty. Nice, isn’t it? 

Sir Thomas. Forgive me for saying it but—but 
I should like to hold it so—always. 

Aunt Betty. It would be a hit confining, wouldn’t 
it? 

Sir Thomas. But so comfortable. 

Aunt Betty. And at our age we like to be com¬ 
fortable. 

Sir Thomas. Rather, then you don’t mind my 
holding your hand, Mrs. Cornish? 

Aunt Betty. Go on- 

Sir Thomas. Oh, Mrs. Cornish. (From here 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


48 

on their speeches arc broken by chuckles and gig¬ 
gles. The “Tall Drink" is having its effect on both 
of them.) 

Aunt Betty. I suppose every woman likes to 
have her hand held—it’s been a long time since any¬ 
one made love to me. 

Sir Thomas. (He screws up his courage and 
slips his arm around her waist.) Oh, Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. I’m sure I don’t know just what 
it is but something tingles way down to my toes. 

Yes, clear down to there- (She sticks out her 

foot.) 

Sir Thomas. Oh. Mrs. Cornish. 

Aunt Betty. Call me Betty. Everybody calls 
me Betty. And I’ll call you-^-Tommy. 

Sir Thomas. It does sound—er—domestic— 
Mrs. Co—Betty. 

Aunt Betty. And there’s nothing like being 
domestic, at our age. 

Sir Thomas. Really, you make me feel twenty 
years younger. 

Aunt Betty. I’m not quite sure but it’s either 
you or the brandy—I feel, well, I feel kittenish! 

Sir I homas. Betty! You don’t mind my saying 
it— but I wish we could be like this the rest of our 
lives—together, you understand. 

Aunt Betty. '1 here is no reason why we 
shouldn’t, Tommy, just like this—more or less. 

Sir Thomas. Oh, Betty! (He kisses her hand.) 

Aunt Betty. Oh. don’t bother kissing my hand. 

Sir Thomas. You object? 

Aunt Betty. My hand, I mean. Tommy, there 
it no use wasting a good thing. 

Sir Thomas. You mean- 

Aunt Betty. Yes—go ahead. 

Sir Thomas. (He kisses her) Mrs. Cor— 
Betty. 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


49 


Aunt Betty. It’s the first time I’ve been kissed 
in—years. Oh! I’d forgotten there was such a 
thrill in a kiss! Strange how we do forget things. 

Sir Thomas. Betty, I haven’t much to offer you 
—my family of course. 

Aunt Betty. All dead aren’t they? 

Sir Thomas. Yes— all dead. 

Aunt Betty. Then they’re safe. 

Sir Thomas. I mean—er—my title. 

Aunt Betty. Oh, dear me! I’d forgotten that. 
But of course, out in Butte, you’ll have to be plain 
Mr. Lord—with a past. No need to mention the 
past. 

Sir Thomas. But—not- 

Aunt Betty. Out where I come from it isn’t 
one’s grandfather that counts. Oh, no—it’s one’s 
grandchildren. 

Sir Thomas. Wonderful place—Butte. My 
word. Then of course I have to offer- 

Aunt Betty. Yes- 

Sir Thomas. My reputation as a- 

Aunt Betty. Oh, don’t let that worry you. Out 
where I come from a man’s reputation is never held 
up against him. Why, the foreman on my ranch 
used to be a bank-robber. Yes, did time in Dead- 
wood. We call him Deadwood Dick! 

Sir Thomas. My income is very small, you 
know. It is only - 

Aunt Betty. Don’t worry about that! Eve 
enough, more than enough for both of us. 

Sir Thomas. Betty! 

Aunt Betty. Tommy! 

Sir Thomas. Then you take me just as I am? 

Aunt Betty. Just as you are—excepting the 
spats! My house and my heart need you. A man ! 

Sir Thomas. You do me a great honor. 

Aunt Betty. Lord, there isn’t much honor in 







50 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


it. Perhaps we do love each other a little. Love 
is a strange thing—Tommy. Usually, when a woman 
gets to be my age, husbands are—well, like habits. 
Some women have good habits and some have bad 
habits. But I’m sure you’ll be a good one—a mighty 
good one. 

Sir Thomas. Betty. 

Aunt Betty. I sure like it. Do it again. (Sir 
Thomas kisses her again—not a quick peck as the 
others have been. Mr. Grayson appears in the 
doorway. He stops, astonished, looks again, and 
backs out.) 

Sir Thomas. There! 

Aunt Betty. I suppose you’ll want it over as 
quickly as possible. After all it’s more or less like 
having a tooth pulled—the quicker the better. 

Sir Thomas. You mean the - 

Aunt Betty. The ceremony. I’m not much of 
a hand for lace veils and all that. 

Sir Thomas. Yes, of course. Of course, we 
won’t want anything elaborate. 

Aunt Betty. We could run up to New York 
tomorrow. I’ve a little business to attend to—but 
could take an hour or so off- 

Sir Thomas. To get—er—married. Splendid 
idea! You know you Americans are so wonderful 
at business and weddings and that sort of thing. 
You do things so beastly fast over here. 

Aunt Betty. No use leaving any tag ends over. 
Out where I come from we always say, “Hang a 
horse thief one day—and give him a decent burial 
the next.” 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes. (Mrs. Grayson 
comes dozvnstairs. Aunt Betty sees her.) 

Aunt Betty. Now you’ll want to go home and 
get out of the golf suit—won’t you? I’ll have sev- 






AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


5i 

eral things to talk over with the family. But come 
in after dinner for coffee. 

Sir Thomas. (He rises) Yes . . . yes, of 
course, things of this sort do take a great deal of 
talking over. 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh, Sir Thomas, so sorry. I 
didn’t know you were here. So sorry I was not 
here to receive you. 

Sir Thomas. Quite all right . . . quite all right, 
Mrs. Grayson. You see, Mrs. Cornish and I have 
been- 

Aunt Betty. Just talking a few things over. 

Sir Thomas. Yes—yes. Just talking a few 

things over. 

Aunt Betty. And we just got in from playing 
golf. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes . . . 

Mrs. Grayson. But you must stay on to dinner, 
Sir Thomas. 

Sir Thomas. Really, I- 

Aunt Betty. No, he must go home and change 
his clothes. He’s always so particular about that. 

Sir Thomas. Really I must be going—I must. 
(He backs out) 

Aunt Betty. Don’t forget to drop in for coffee. 

Mrs. Grayson. Such a lovely man. 

Aunt Betty. Yes- 

Mrs. Grayson. So dignified and so comme-il- 
faut. 

Aunt Betty. Eh ? 

Mrs. Grayson. So— so—proper, always. Such 
a gentleman. 

Aunt Betty. Yes. 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh, he’s forgotten his cap. ("Mr. 
Grayson appears.) 

Mr. Grayson. I’m eaten up with mosquitoes! 





52 AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 

Kathrine, why—why do you keep the back door 
locked! 

Mrs. Grayson. Back door? Mosquitoes? Why 
didn’t you come in? 

Mr. Grayson. (Scratching desperately) Wasn’t 
any place to get in! 

Mrs. Grayson. Surely you haven’t lost your 
mind ! The doors there are wide open! 

Mr. Grayson. But the room was occupied! 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh! (She looks at Aunt 
Betty .) Then why don’t you go into the library? 

Mr. Grayson. (Stilt scratching his head) That’s 
full, too! (Laughter is heard from the left) 

Mrs. Grayson. Oh! 

Aunt Betty. Well, T must go up and dress for 
dinner. 

Mrs. Grayson. I’m afraid you haven’t time. 

Aunt Betty. I’ll take time. I always dress for 
dinner. Besides, Tommy is coming over for coffee. 
(She walks tozvard the stairs) 

Mrs. Grayson. Tommy! 

Mr. Grayson. Tommy? 

Aunt Betty. (Her smile breaks into laughter) 
Yes—I always call him Tommy. Cute name. 

Mrs. Grayson. You refer to Sir Thomas Lo - 

Aunt Betty. (She leans over the bannister) 
And he—and he calls me—Betty! (She goes up¬ 
stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Grayson stand looking after 
her in amazement. Suzzane and Richard enter 
from the left.) 

Richard. Oh, Mrs. Grayson, I’ve been wanting 
to see you all day. May Suzzane and I- 

Mrs. Grayson. (Without looking around) I 
don’t care what you do! 

Suzzane. Oh! 

Richard. Oh! We’re engaged. 

Suzzane. Engaged. (They embrace each other. 




AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


53 

Mrs. Grayson turns, sees them, sinks into a chair. 
Mr. Grayson runs to her.) 

Mrs. Grayson. (Weakly) And in my house! 
(The maid enters. She holds up a long envelope) 
It’s another “Special Delivery,” ma’am . . . for 
Mrs. Cornish! 


CURTAIN 



ACT III 


The same, about an hour later. 

(Suzzane and Richard enter from the dining 

room.) 

Suzzane. Oh ! What a dinner ! 

Richard. Nobody said a word ! 

Suzzane. Mother just sat there and glared— 
glared at Aunt Betty. 

Richard. Hm! But Aunt Betty didn’t seem to 
mind. 

Suzzane. Goodness, I didn’t think they’d act that 
way about our engagement. 

Richard. Do you suppose that’s what it is ? 

Suzzane. What else can it be? 

Richard. Anyway, we’re happy. (He takes her 
in his arms . Mr. G. enters.) 

Mr. G. Hm! Seems to me, from things I’ve 
noticed now and then, that you people are getting 
pretty intimate the last few days. 

Suzzane. Father, what is the matter with every¬ 
one? 

Mr. G. What do you mean ? 

Suzzane. Dinner. It was awful. No one said a 
word. I didn’t suppose you were going to act that 
way about it. 

Mr. G. Eh? 

Suzzane. It was like sitting on the edge of a 

54 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


55 

thunder-storm. Has anything besides us happened ? 
(She looks at Richard .) 

Mrs. G. No . . . no. But it’s likely to happen 
at any moment. 

Suzzane. What? 

Mr. G. That’s it! I don’t know what. Has the 
paper come yet ? 

(Aunt Betty enters.) 

Aunt Betty. Now, my dears, don’t all run away 
—oh! (She calls back over her shoulder) Don’t 
forget to order an extra cup for Sir Thomas. I 
didn’t tell the maid. (She comes in and sits down.) 
He’ll be along soon. (She sits back and laughs.) 

Suzzane. What is it, Aunt Betty? You’ve been 
laughing like that all evening. Why don’t you tell 
us, too? 

Aunt Betty. Nothing, my dear. I’m just happy! 
(Mrs. G. enters.) Now—now that we are all to¬ 
gether, I want to tell you something. 

Suzzane. Oh! 

Mr. G. Eh? 

Aunt B. It’s about the house. 

Mrs. G. The house? (She looks at Mr. Gray¬ 
son .) 

Aunt B. Yes . . . this house. 

Mr. G. Oh ! (He sinks into a chair.) 

Aunt B. You and Kathrine have lived here 
twenty years and- 

Mrs. G. Yes—twenty years. 

Aunt B. And of course you’ve made a great 
many improvements, and all that. 

Mr. G. Yes. 

Aunt B. And built the garage. 

Mrs. G. And the gardens, and walks, and planted 
the trees, and put on the- 




5 6 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Aunt B. Not all of them. 

Mrs. G. N—no. Not all of them! 

Aunt B. But the garage wouldn’t be much use 
without the house, would it? 

Mr. G. No. 

Aunt B. Then let us talk about the house. 

Mrs. G. Yes, my dear. 

Aunt B. I thought it would be so nice for Suz- 
zane and Richard after they are married. 

Mrs. G. Married ! But they aren’t even engaged ! 

Richard. What! 

Suzzane. Yes, we are! See, Em wearing Rich¬ 
ard’s ring. 

Mrs. G. You . . . you- 

Suzzane. Of course! You said we could get 
engaged. 

Mrs. G. I said- 

Richard. Yes- 

Suzzane. Yes, just before dinner. You said 
you didn’t care what we did —so we got engaged. 

Mrs. G. I didn’t mean- 

Richard. But you said it, Mrs. Grayson. 

Suzzane. And we can’t get unengaged now. 

Richard. No. 

Aunt B. No. 

Mr. G. No— o. 

Mrs. G. William! 

Aunt B. (Quickly) Anyway, that’s settled! 
That’s settled. (She turns.) As T was saying, T 
felt that this house would be so nice for Suzzane 
and her husband. 

Mrs. G. Eh! 

Suzzane. ETusband—doesn’t that sound nice, 

Dick ? 

Aunt B. You'll get used to it. 

Mrs. G. Then, you mean, Mr. Grayson and I are 
to- 



t 

< 







AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


57 

Aunt B. Oh, Lord, no! Of course you and 
William are to stay here until—until you die. 

Mrs. G. There are no immediate prospects of 

dying. 

Aunt B. Oh, no—no, no. But we can’t all live 
forever—thank God. (She laughs.) And you may 
die of heart failure before I finish. 

Suzzane. Then there is more to tell? Goodie! 

Aunt B. Much more. But let us finish the house 
first. 

Mrs. G. Yes, yes, let us finish the house. 

Aunt B. William, I’ve had the deed made out 
and signed over to you and Kathrine. It was done 
yesterday. My lawyer came out here. 

Mr. G. Oh! 

Mrs. G. My dear Betty, I’m sure we are very 
thankful for- 

Aunt B. Oh, you mustn’t be! After all, I’ve 
always thought of this as belonging to you and 
Kate. I wanted to give it to you long ago, but just 
didn’t get around to it. 

Mrs. G. Then it’s really, really my house now? 

Aunt B. Yes—yours. 

Suzzane. Aunt Betty, you’re an old peach! (She 
turns to Aunt Betty and hugs her. The maid en¬ 
ters with the coffee.) 

Mrs. G. Didn’t you say Sir Thomas was to drop 
in for cofifee, Betty? 

Aunt B. Yes. (She turns and walks to the 
French window.) 

Mrs. G. Something unusual must have happened, 
something most unusual. He’s so late . . .. and he’s 
never late! 

Maid. And the Evening Post. 

Suzzane. Oh, let me see the paper! I always 
look at the book reviews first because some time. 
p)i c p - Oh, look ! look ! Father, look ! It’s here. 




58 AUNUT BETTY OF BUTTE 

the very first one! Listen. (They all crowd around 
her. Aunt Betty turns.) 

Aunt B. What is it? 

Suzzane. It’s in the paper! 

Aunt B. What? What? 

Suzzane. It’s all about Dick’s new novel. Lis¬ 
ten ! 

Aunt B. Oh! 

Suzzane. (Reading) “The Balkan Princess, a 
new novel by Richard Fervingham Porter, is one of 
the best novels of the month. The story deals with 
the adventures of a young New Yorker who, tired 
of club life, goes to the Balkans, where he falls in 
love with a Roumanian Princess, encounters the 
Bolshevicks and makes a fortune in oil. Mr. Por¬ 
ter is a natural story teller, a past-master at the art 
of fiction.” (She hugs Richard. ) Oh, Dick! 

Mrs. G. ' Suzzane! 

Mr. G. Young man, T congratulate you. 

Aunt B. Lord, so we’ve got another writer in 
the family! 

Mrs. G. Another? 

Suzzane. I wish Sir Thomas would come. Pm 
just dying to tell him. (She puts the paper on the 
table.) Oh, here are two letters for Aunt Betty! 

Mrs. G. Yes, one came this afternoon, special de¬ 
livery, and the other just before dinner. I’m sorry 
I forgot them. (Aunt Betty opens the letters.) 
In the excitement we are forgetting our coffee. 

Aunt B. More checks! Those mines are Jim 
dandies. William, I’m getting more money than I 
know what to do with! 

Mr. G. Impossible, my dear Betty, impossible! 

Aunt B. I know what I’ll do. Here, young 
man. 

Richard. Me? 

Aunt B. Yes, Til buy the first edition of your 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


59 

new book. Oh, and Ell endorse the checks the day 
you are married. 

Richard. Why, why, there is enough here for 
seven or eight editions! 

Aunt B. Keep the change—that’s my wedding 
present to you and Suzzane. 

Richard. Aunt Betty—I—I—thank you. 

Suzzane. Aunt Betty, you dear old duck, you’re 
wonderful! 

Aunt B. No —o—o. Just human—thank God. 

Mrs. G. Oh! 

Aunt B. Dear Kate—never mind. I’m going 
West again to-morrow—back to God’s country. 

Mrs. G. Oh ! I suppose business- 

Aunt B. No, not business. Nope. Eve had my 
fling and now Eve jumped. 

Mr. G. Jumped? 

Mrs. G. You mean- 

Aunt B. Em going to enjoy myself. Em going 
to have all the things Eve ever wanted and couldn’t 
have. . . . William, can you remember a time I 
never worked ? 

Mr. G. No, Betty. I don’t believe I can. 

Aunt B. Neither can E We were a large fam¬ 
ily. I had to help take care of the rest of you. Then 
we had to get you through college, and after that— 
I married, married a man I didn’t love simply be¬ 
cause some one else wished it. That’s why I want 
Suzzane to marry the man she really loves . . . the 
man who is her true love-mate. 

Mrs. G. But, my dear- 

Aunt B. Oh, I know—but those objections are 
passed now. Suzzane and Richard are engaged and 
will soon be married. They’re happy. 

Suzzane. We are happy, 

Richard. Hm! 

Aunt B. Of course you are. Why, you discov- 







6 o 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


ered life together and you’ll both go on finding hap¬ 
piness together. (She turns.) Oh, I know, Kate, 
you don’t like me . . . you never did . . . and you 
never will. We are as different as night and day. 
You see, fate wrapped you up in cotton and pink rib¬ 
bon and took care of you. But I—I had to get out 
and take care of other people. T had to buck up 
against the world . . . and the world isn’t an easy 
thing to buck up against. But I’ve done it and I’ve 
won! Won! (She walks up to the window. 
Turns.) You think I’m hard, scheming, unwoman¬ 
ly. Perhaps I am. I’ve had to he. To you I’m just 
Aunt Betty from Butte. I don’t fit in with your 
sort of people, Kate. And I don’t want to! I’ve 
seen ’em, sniviling, gossipy, little minded people— 
got nothing else to do. 

Mrs. G. My dear Betty! 

Aunt B. I know you don’t like what I say . . . 
didn’t think you would. But I’ve wanted to say this 
for twenty years, and now that I’ve started I’m going 
to finish! I don’t mean that you haven’t been a 
good mother and a good wife, but—hell, any woman 
can be that. 

Mrs. G. (Nervously) Richard—Richard, will 
you please telephone the club and see if Sir Thomas 
has started over? 

Richard. Yes, yes, why, of course, Mrs. Gray¬ 
son. (He goes out left.) 

Aunt B. He should be here. I hope nothing has 
happened to the old dear. 

Mrs. G. Betty! 

Aunt B. Well, he is an old dear—and he’s mine. 

Mrs. G. Yours! 

Aunt B. Oh, I haven’t finished yet. As I was 
saying, I worked, worked, slaved! But everything 
I’ve got I earned myself. After I’d made my stake 
and had a little extra, I went in for other things- 



AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


61 


Mrs. G. You mean - 

Aunt B. I mean flying', ranching, politics, and 
all the rest of those crazy things. You see, Ed 
missed such a lot of life that I wanted to make it all 
up at once. And I was looking for something other 
women had that I had missed. 

Mrs. G. And you mean to say you found it in 
politics ? 

Aunt B. No —oo—oo. 1 found it—I found it 
in love. 

Mr. G. Eh? Betty, did \ understand you to say 
love? 

Mrs. G. Love? Whose love? 

Aunt B. You all think I’m a hard-willed old 
woman, but underneath it all I’m just like any other 
woman. T am a woman ! 

Mrs. G. But, my dear Betty - 

Aunt B. I’ve found it! I didn’t know what it 
was I was looking for, but T know now. Oh, it may 
be a bit moth-eaten and a bit rheumatic . . . but it’s 
real, just the same. (She conies down to the center 
of the room.) He’ll be such a nice old thing to have 
around the house. 

Mr. G. Who? 

Aunt B. I mean, William, that your sister, when 
she’s in Butte, Montana, is still “Aunt Betty of 
Butte”—but after to-morrow, when she comes to 

visit you, she’ll be—Lady Betty from—from- 

Lord, now where did Tommv sav he was from? 
Anyhow, Lady Bettv. 

Mrs. G. You can’t mean that- 

(Richard enters hurriedly.) 

Richard. Pie’s gone! Left fifteen minutes ago. 

Mrs. G. Then he ought to he here by now. 

Richard. No —gone! T mean e/one! Bag and 






6 2 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


baggage gone! He’s catching the 7:45 for New 
York—so the man at the club said. 

Aunt Betty. You mean he’s- 

Richard. Left town! 

Aunt Betty. (She sinks into a chair) Then I’ve 
lost it! 

Richard. (He goes to her) Lost what? 
Suzzane. (She rims to Aunt BettyJ You 
poor, poor dear! 

Richard. What’s it all about? You all look like 
a funeral. 

Mr. G. Sir Thomas must have made up his mind 
in a hurry. 

Mrs. G. So abruptly! And he never even came 
in to say good-bye—to me. 

Aunt Betty. Lost it! 

(There is the sound of an automobile outside. Mrs. 
Grayson goes to the window.) 

Mrs. G. Why—it’s stopping here. 

Suzzane. Oh, Dick, run out and see who it is. 

(Richard hurries out.) 

Mr. G. (He walks back and forth. Tries to 

whistle) Well, I’ll be- 

Suzzane. He’s a scamp! 

Mr. G. Who? Oh! 

Aunt Betty. Don’t say that! Perhaps the poor 
dear lost his courage at the last moment. (Pause.) 
And it cost me eight dollars a bottle! (Pause.) 
Just when I had him he- 

(Richard and Sir Thomas enter.) 


Mrs. G. Sir Thomas ! 





AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


63 

Sir Thomas. Good evening—good evening. So 
sorry I’m late—but—er—awfully sorry. I mean to 
say- 

Aunt B. Oh! 

Sir Thomas. (He hurries to Aunt Betty’s 
side) Awfully sorry, but you see—you’ve told the 
family ? 

Aunt Betty. (Weakly) Everything. 

Sir Thomas. Mrs. Cornish has done me the 
honor to- 

Suzzane. It’s great! 

Sir Thomas. Eh? Yes . . . yes. 

Richard. But you’re leaving rather suddenly, Sir 
Thomas. 

Sir Thomas. Oh, dear, no. On the contrary. 
I’ve stayed on longer than I expected. 

Mrs. G. Oh! 

Sir Thomas. I’m leaving to-night, however. 

Mrs. G. So sorry. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes. I’m to meet Mrs. 
Cornish in New York to-morrow and we are—are 
. . . Is that right, my dear? 

Aunt Betty. I had expected that we would go 
in together on the morning train. 

Mr. G. Yes . . . yes . . . It’s much better to 
go in together on the morning train. 

Aunt Betty. New York is so large. I — I might 
lose you! 

Sir Thomas. Yes—but is it quite proper for 
two unmarried people to—er—travel alone? 

Richard. This is America. 

Mrs. G. (Admiringly) Always so comme-il- 

faut. So proper. 

Aunt B. Why can’t we all go in together —all of 
us? To-morrow? 

Sir Thomas. You said something about business, 
my dear. 





64 


AUNT BETTY OF BUTTE 


Aunt Betty. Til drop that for a day or two. 
Why not do it all up at once —have a double wed¬ 
ding ? 

Mrs. G. What! 

t 

Suzzane. Oh. yes. 

Aunt Betty. Might just as well—then the chil¬ 
dren can go along to Butte with us for their honey¬ 
moon. 

Richard. Great idea, that. 

Sir Thomas. Yes . . . yes ... it is a good 
idea. You mean marry everybody at once? How 
American ! 

Mrs. G. But- 

Aunt Betty. Yes, let’s have it that way. 

Richard. Suzzane! (He runs to her. Mr. and 
Mrs. G. have turned away to argue.) 

Sir Thomas. My dear, I stopped in a shop to get 
a ring. Customary to have a ring, isn’t it—even in 
America? (He fumbles in his pockets.) Where is 
the beastly thing? (She rises. He puts the ring on 
her finger.) 

Aunt Betty. And I thought I had lost you— 
Tommy. 

Sir Thomas. Eh? Oh, Betty! (He half puts 
his arms around her.) 

Aunt Betty. (Over her shoulder) Oh, young 
man. Ell sign those checks in the morning. 

(But Richard is too occupied to hear what any one 
is saying. For a moment Mrs. Grayson stands 
perplexed.) 

Mr. G. Kathrine! (He puts his arm around his 
wife.) 

Mrs. G. (She looks up at him) Isn’t it roman¬ 
tic—and in my own house! 


CURTAIN 



The Touch-Down 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, but 
any number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Cos¬ 
tumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2J4 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co educational college. It deals with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 

“The Touch-Down” has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females. 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2)4 hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twenty-one, and 
married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative’s million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untram¬ 
meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-bne. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
The characters are natural and unaffected and the action moves with 
a snap such as should be expected from its title. Price, 30 Cents. 

The Varsity Coach 

A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 6 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy’s room and 
the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, “Bob” Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst of 
a “spread” in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
who is putting him through college. Aunt Serena, “a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world,” has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
has received “a pink card,” which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
college life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the “Prom” and the classroom, makes a story of 
dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
college life. There are several opportunities for the introduction of 
eollege songs and “stunts.” Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free m Requett 






The Returr 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



0 015 906 372 


A comedy in four acts, by Ma 
Coach,” ‘‘The Touch-Down.” et< 
modern. One interior scene.,. 

This comedy is founded upon and elaborated from a farce comedy 
in two acts written by J. H. Horta, and originally produced at Tuft’s 
College. _ , 

Hiram Poynter Jinks, a Junior in Hoosic College (Willie Collier 
type), and a*young moving picture actress (Mary Pickford type), are 
the leading characters in this lively, modern farce. 

Thomas Hodge, a Senior, envious of the popularity of Jinks, wishes 
to think up a scheme to throw ridicule upon him during a visit of 
the Hoosic Glee Club to Jihks’s home town. Jinks has obligingly acted 
as a one-day substitute in a moving picture play, in which there is a 
fire scene, and this gives Hodge his cue. He sends what seems to 
be a bona fide account of Jink’s heroism at a Hoosic fire to Jink’s 
home paper. Instead of repudiating his laurels as expected. Jinks 
decides to take a flyer in fame, confirms the fake story, confesses to 
being a hero and is adored by all the girls, to the chagrin and dis¬ 
comfiture of Hodge. Of course, the truth comes out at last, but 
Jinks is not hurt thereby, and his romance with Mimi Mayflower 
comes to a successful termination. 

This is a great comedy for amateurs. It is full of funny situations 
and is sure to please. Price, 30 Cents. 


June 

A most successful comedy-drama in four acts, by Marie Doran, 
author of “The New Co-Ed,” “Tempest and Sunshine,” “Dorothy’s 
Neighbors,” etc. 4 males, 8 females. One interior scene. Costumes 
modern. Plays hours. 

This play has a very interesting group of young people. June is 
an appealing little figure, an orphan living with her aunt. There are 
a number of delightful, life-like characters: the sorely tried likeable 
Mrs. Hopkins, the amusing, haughty Miss Banks of the glove depart¬ 
ment, the lively Tilly and Milly, who work in the store, and ambitious 
Snoozer; Mrs. Hopkins’s only son, who aspires to be President of the 
United States, but finds his real sphere is running the local trolley 
car. The play is simplicity itself in the telling of an every-day story, 
and the scenic requirements call for only one set, a room in the 
boarding house of Mrs. Hopkins, while an opportunity is afforded to 
introduce any number of extra characters. Musical numbers may be 
introduced, if desired. Price, 30 Cents. 


Tempest and Sunshine 

A comedy drama in four acts, by Marie Doran. 5 males and 3 
females. One exterior and three interior scenes. Plays about 2 hours 

Every school girl has revelled in the sweet simplicity and gentle¬ 
ness of the characters interwoven in the charms that Mary J. Holmes 
command'-- in her story of “Tempest and Sunshine.” W’e can strongly 
recommend this play as one of the best plays for high school pro¬ 
duction published in recent years. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 W est 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 















